


winter yields to spring (and sometimes, spring yields to winter)

by slightlytookish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Sansa there everything seemed brighter, and Margaery no longer felt her loneliness weighing so heavily upon her shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	winter yields to spring (and sometimes, spring yields to winter)

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place at some point in the future, so there are spoilers for all books through ADWD and some references to off-screen character deaths (both canonical and not – or at least, not yet).

"It seems unwise, my dear," her grandmother said as she watched Margaery write the invitation. "They say that the queen and the Stark girl have become fast friends, and that she even sits on the small council. She will certainly report back to the court about everything she sees here."

Olenna was very frail now, the effects of war and winter weakening her more than her age ever did. Though she did not often leave her chambers anymore, her mind was still terribly sharp and Margaery trusted her just as much as she ever did. Besides, her grandmother was all that she had left.

But now Margaery only laughed as she dipped her quill in the ink. "What will she see, Grandmother? Highgarden is as it always was, and you and I are less interesting than a pair of septas. Anyway," she said lightly, bending her head over the parchment, "I've had quite enough of playing at war."

Her grandmother was so quiet that Margaery wondered if she had fallen asleep; it would not have been the first time that Olenna had dozed off in the middle of a conversation. It was only when Margaery finished her letter that she realised her grandmother was still watching her, her eyes alert and bright in the early morning sunlight.

"Tired of war, eh?" she said gruffly. "And in need of a friend, I suppose, even one that might be a spy. One old lady isn't much company, I know."

Margaery crossed the room and perched on the edge of Olenna's bed. "You know that's not true, Grandmother."

"Of course it is; don't flatter me." Olenna sighed heavily but the eager look in her eyes did not escape Margaery's notice. "I suppose Sansa will bring us some news from King's Landing."

Margaery smiled. She may have had enough of war and intrigue and everything else that went with it, but it seemed that Olenna would never lose her taste for it. "I thought that would please you," she said, and leaned over to kiss her grandmother's wrinkled cheek. 

*

Sansa's response was swift and gracious but her journey to Highgarden took longer than expected, delayed as she was by the frequent spring rains. When she finally arrived in the midst of a steady drizzle she appeared to be wearing every drop of mud from the Roseroad on her skirts, along with a tentative smile. 

She looked around as she dismounted, her eyes roving the castle and the trees and the sparse crowd that had gathered to greet her – though what she was searching for, Margaery could not say. She wondered if Sansa was imagining what her life would have been like if she had married Willas, if that mad plan of theirs had actually worked so long ago.

Margaery wondered that too, and many more things every single day, but now she pushed those thoughts aside and stepped forward to welcome Sansa to Highgarden.

They greeted each other courteously, but despite the pleasant letters they had so recently exchanged things were awkward between them until Sansa nearly called Margaery "Your Grace." She caught herself just in time, though not before Margaery realised what she had meant to say, and looked wretchedly embarrassed by her mistake. But Margaery smiled, not just at the blunder but also because, despite the gloomy skies, she could see that Sansa still blushed so prettily. 

"I hardly know what to call myself anymore," she said. Sansa gave her a doubtful look but it was the truth. Three husbands – three kings – were dead and buried, and she had no crown to show for it. "Just Margaery will do, Lady Stark." 

"Only if you call me Sansa," was the immediate reply. When Margaery looked at her Sansa was wearing a smile that, unless she was greatly mistaken (and she very, very rarely was), almost seemed flirtatious.

Margaery blinked in surprise. The years had made Sansa Stark bolder than she remembered. For some reason that she could not explain, the thought caused her heart to beat a little faster. 

"I almost feel as if we're girls again," Margaery replied, returning the smile as she took Sansa by the arm and led the way indoors. "There's a hot bath waiting for you, and supper. You must be weary from your journey, Sansa." 

The name felt strange on her tongue after so many years but Margaery was a Tyrell deep in her bones, and the Tyrells were nothing if not amenable to change. 

Especially when a change happened to bring them closer to what they wanted, too.

*

At one time Margaery was subtle, but her grandmother's warning was still weighing heavily on her mind and she had lost too much over the years to trouble herself with delicacy. 

"My grandmother thinks you're only here to spy on us for the queen," she said, cheerfully buttering a piece of bread. "Should I be concerned?" Sansa choked on her wine.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, waving away the servant that had appeared at her side with a goblet of water. She turned to Margaery, looking deeply distressed. "Queen Daenerys gave me leave to visit Highgarden, but only because I so wished to see you again. I promise, she wants nothing more than your loyalty, which you've already given."

Margaery thought back to the day that she renounced any claim to the throne and bent the knee before the watchful eyes of men and dragons. She had hardly glanced at the crowd that surrounded her, and even the dragons had not captured much of her attention – it had been Daenerys' eyes that were Margaery's greatest concern, and they had seemed kind when she spoke of the long history of friendship between the Targaryens and the Tyrells, and returned Highgarden to her. 

Her ancestor Harlen bent the knee to Aegon, just as she did to Daenerys, and it seemed that even now dragons knew the value of fertile lands and loyal Tyrells.

 _"She wants to keep us trapped in our gilded cage,"_ her grandmother said later, but that wasn't true. Margaery was not a prisoner; she was free to go wherever she pleased as long as she remained loyal to Daenerys. And, even though she had been groomed to be a queen since infancy, Margaery had quickly discovered that she did not miss wearing a crown – much to her surprise, and her grandmother's. 

Besides, Highgarden was all that Margaery wanted now; Highgarden was what got her through the most difficult and loneliest of days, when all she had for companionship was a dozing grandmother and she could not help remembering when her family was so much larger than it was now. On those days, when she struggled to keep the memories at bay, she remembered that Highgarden needed her. Her people needed her. And most days, that was enough.

Now Margaery smiled. "I'm so pleased that you're here, Sansa," she said, and she meant it more than she could truly express. "So is my grandmother. Forgive her for being overly cautious, but we receive few visitors these days. I do know that she wishes to see you when she feels well enough for company. She has much that she wishes to discuss with you."

Sansa looked a little worried at the thought, and Margaery had to take a long drink of wine to hide her smile.

*

Margaery had always thought that Highgarden looked its best after the rain, when the sun finally broke through the clouds and everything appeared greener and the air smelled fresher. So when the following morning dawned clear and bright she thought it was the perfect excuse to take Sansa for a stroll in her favourite rose garden, while raindrops still lingered on the petals and the grass was soft and damp beneath their feet, before leading her to the river where a boat awaited them. 

When they arrived at the shore, the river was calm but the boat rocked as they climbed aboard. Sansa, usually so graceful in her movements, flung out her arms to clutch at Margaery's waist, clinging to her so tightly that Margaery nearly lost her balance and sent them both tumbling over the side of the boat and into the water.

Margaery laughed loud enough to startle the birds out of a nearby tree, but Sansa's smile was tight and her face was pale as she allowed herself to be guided to her seat, clasping Margaery's hand between both of her own.

"I was terribly sick at sea once," was all that she said, after they were settled and the boat finally stopped its violent rocking.

"I could show you some of the other gardens instead, if you prefer." Margaery moved to stand but Sansa shook her head.

"Thank you, but I would like to see the river first." Her back straightened and there was a determined set to her jaw, and all at once Margaery saw the girl that had faced threats from every corner of King's Landing and the realm itself, and somehow managed to survive them all. Half of Winterfell might be in ruins, but Sansa was stronger than ever. A little water would not frighten her now. 

Sansa was still holding tightly to her hand, though. Margaery gave it an encouraging squeeze. 

"I don't think the waves will disturb you today," she said as she signalled to the oarsmen that they were ready to depart. "The Mander is always very calm near Highgarden."

Sansa didn't reply, but as they drifted slowly down the river the colour gradually returned to her face and her hand loosened in Margaery's hold. The fact that Sansa didn't let go completely made something warm and happy bloom in Margaery's chest. 

"I remember when you told me about these boats," Sansa said after a while. "You and your grandmother, when you invited me to supper. Do you remember?"

Margaery remembered Butterbumps' terrible singing, her grandmother's insults, the gaggle of ladies talking and laughing and never once noticing the plots being woven right under their noses. She remembered the way Sansa had trembled as she told them about Joffrey's cruelty, and how Margaery had told her about the very best of Highgarden in return, in hopes of making her smile.

"Yes," she said. "I remember it well."

Sansa smiled as they sailed past a row of trees, their low-hanging branches heavy with pale pink blossoms. "Highgarden sounded like a dream. I couldn't believe that any place so beautiful could be real but now that I'm finally here I can see that you were not exaggerating."

"I wanted to bring you here myself and show you all of my favourite places. I begged my grandmother to let you and I visit here before my wedding, but we both knew the Lannisters would never permit it."

"That would have been lovely," Sansa said, sounding wistful. 

"Well, you're here now and so am I," Margaery said, smiling. "And you've seen a couple of my favourite places already but I still want to show you the rest, if you'd like."

Sansa's answering smile was bright enough to steal Margaery's breath. "I would love that," she said, her fingers curling tightly around Margaery's once more.

*

Days passed and they fell into a happy routine. Olenna claimed that she was too weak to see Sansa just yet, so Margaery filled their days with long walks in the gardens and picnics by the river. Every day she showed Sansa another of her favourite spots, often venturing into places that had been too painful for her to visit in recent years, now that the castle loomed so large and empty and the rooms echoed with a silence that she didn't think she would ever grow accustomed to. 

But with Sansa there everything seemed brighter and Margaery no longer felt her loneliness weighing so heavily upon her shoulders. She couldn't remember when she had smiled and laughed as much as she did with Sansa at her side, and if she happened to notice the way Sansa kept stealing glances at her, well, that only made her days even more pleasant.

"I smelled the flowers from the Roseroad when I arrived, before I even saw the castle through the trees," Sansa said. She had a rose in her hand, a large bloom in Tyrell gold that Margaery had picked for her during their walk, and she buried her nose in it, taking a long breath as if she wanted to draw the sweet scent deep into her lungs. "We grew blue roses in the glass gardens at Winterfell. They were still growing when I was last there, despite the destruction around them."

They had spent the afternoon in one of the smaller gardens, sitting in the shade of the tree that grew just below Margaery's windows. When she was a child it had been used as a private garden for her family, but only Margaery went there now. 

"Roses are tough things," Margaery said, and she couldn't help the pride that crept into her voice. "Those sound lovely. I would like to see them, and the north. I've never visited there."

"Perhaps you will someday," Sansa said. She looked like she wanted to say more but in the end she just smiled and looked away, bending her head over the rose once more.

Margaery watched the way Sansa's hair gleamed copper in the sunlight and felt that now-familiar sensation of warmth spreading in her chest, right over her heart. "Only if you promise to come with me. I shouldn't enjoy myself at all if you weren't there."

Sansa's head snapped up and Margaery didn't miss the undisguised hope shining in her eyes. Later she could never remember who moved first, but suddenly Sansa was in her arms and Sansa's lips were on her own, soft and tasting of the honeycakes they had smuggled out of the kitchens before their walk. Margaery licked deeper into her mouth, chasing the taste, and she tangled her fingers in Sansa's sun-warmed hair as she smiled into the kiss.

*

Margaery was still a maid and she didn't know if anyone would believe her after so many years and so many husbands but she told Sansa anyway. There might be certain things from the past that they never wished to speak about but she would have no new secrets between them now, when they were forging their future. 

Telling Sansa made her feel strangely shy, though. "Do you think it's strange?" she asked, but Sansa was too busy kissing her way down Margaery's neck to respond. Sansa paused when she reached her breasts, but not to answer, and she spent so long licking and teasing at her nipples that Margaery forgot the question.

She was shaking by the time Sansa finally, _finally_ dipped her head to kiss Margaery between her legs. Her hips were straining and it was an effort to keep from pushing against Sansa's face, but then Sansa slipped her tongue inside and Margaery lost any semblance of control. It felt so different from when she touched herself beneath her blankets, and she couldn't keep from weaving her fingers in Sansa's hair and pressing her close and low just where she wanted her. When two of Sansa's fingers pushed in alongside her tongue Margaery came with a sudden sharp cry, trembling all over.

"You're not still a maid, are you?" Margaery asked when she caught her breath, but Sansa only laughed and kissed her long and deep enough for Margaery to taste herself on her tongue. 

*

When Olenna finally decided that she felt well enough to receive Sansa, she was on her best behaviour. Margaery counted only three direct insults and half a dozen innuendos, which must have been a personal record for her grandmother. She would have been concerned if she hadn't noticed the way Olenna eyed the bruise on Sansa's collarbone, the bruise that Margaery had left the night before and covered with apologetic kisses in the morning. 

Sansa endured Olenna's numerous questions and her close scrutiny without complaint, though Margaery had to fight to keep from laughing at the way Sansa kept tugging at the neck of her gown in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the mark. By the time their visit drew to a close Sansa's face was red enough to match her hair and she seemed all too eager to wait outside the door while Margaery helped her grandmother back into bed.

"You ought to put another bruise on the other side," Olenna said loudly as Margaery adjusted her pillows. "The girl looks lopsided with just one."

Margaery thought she heard a whimper of distress coming from behind the door and she tried to conceal it with a laugh. "Grandmother-"

"Go on," Olenna said, waving her away, though her eyes were glinting merrily and the corners of her lips quirked up in a knowing smile. "This visit has quite worn me out, my dear." 

Margaery smiled gratefully and stooped to kiss Olenna's cheek, and later she took her grandmother's advice and sucked another bloom onto Sansa's neck as she unlaced her gown. 

Sansa had dressed herself in Tyrell colours that day, wearing green trimmed with gold for her visit with Olenna, while Margaery had worn a gown in shades of blue and white and silver, they way she imagined the northern sky might look on a winter morning. But it was difficult to imagine the chill of the north now with the warmth of Sansa's laughter ringing in her ears as she squirmed away and let her gown fall to the floor in a heap.

"Now you," she said as she helped Margaery out of her dress. When Sansa finished she tossed the gown aside and gazed at Margaery as if she was the most beautiful person in the world, even though she had already seen all that there was to see several times over. 

Margaery had never been one to blush but she felt her face growing warm now. "Stop it," she said, laughing as she pushed Sansa onto the bed and distracted her with a kiss. Her knee slid between Sansa's thighs and her fingers soon followed, and before long they were rocking against each other until they came apart, one after another.

Sansa pulled her close then, and Margaery went willingly. There was still so much that she didn't know about Sansa, and that Sansa didn't know about her – Sansa never spoke about her time in the Vale except to say that the mountains were lovely to look at, and Margaery never talked about what had happened in King's Landing after Sansa left. There was a time when such secrets would have unnerved Margaery, when they would have made her doubt and worry and plot, but now the mystery didn't trouble her. Such hard-earned secrets deserved to be kept, she thought. 

She was so weary of wars and thrones and games from which no one could ever truly emerge victorious. And yet when she was with Sansa, trading kisses and still-shy smiles, Margaery felt as if she had finally won.


End file.
